Lowering his head, Michael ran through the corridor towards the stairs in an attempt to avoid the calls of the portraits. Thankfully, Gerald seemed to have been distracted by something else—not having the time to try and convince him to become his disciple again.
Upon making it to the stairs, he let out a sigh of relief—feeling as if he’d dodged a bullet.
His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he’d yet to break his fast.
Maybe I’ll treat myself with pancakes this morning, he thought, suddenly in a good mood.
As Michael descended the stairs, he hummed a tune—his thoughts light and easy for the first time in a long while. Perhaps it was the unexpected compliment from Magnus, or the fact that he wanted to believe what the guy said was true, but either way, he decided to enjoy it for once.
"Ah, excuse me." A voice called from the second floor as he was descending the stairs. A girl with dark hair and round glasses called out, looking troubled. "Are you one of the class representatives?"
Michael raised an eyebrow, looking at the woman with a hint of suspicion. There was no insignia on his uniform that gave away his identity—so why would she assume such a thing?
As if sensing his suspicions, she pointed to the top of the stairs, "I guessed so since no one else would be allowed to the higher levels without an escort,"
Ah... That makes sense, Michael thought, lowering his guard slightly.
He cleared his throat, though he stayed on the stairs, "I am indeed a class representative, why do you ask?"
"Oh, good. Could you notify one of the maintenance staff about this door? The lock seems to have jammed. It won’t even budge when I use the key," she explained, wearing a frustrated expression.
Michael walked forward and held out his hand, collecting the key from the young second-year student before heading towards the door.
He indeed had the capability to report issues to the faculty in the castle—a perk of his violet emblem access to the network. But they had already been told to use the service only when necessary.
Seeing the weak body of the girl, Michael felt that she might not be doing it correctly.
He slotted the key into the door which held no resistance. With a simple twist of the key, the sound of the mechanism shifting entered his ears, easily unlocking the supposedly jammed door.
Michael turned to the girl with confusion, only to see her face morph into a sneer.
"You idiot," She spat.
Before he could react, the door forced itself open and Michael felt a pair of strong arms wrap around his neck, pulling him inside the dim room. Panic filled his heart as he tried to yell out, but a large hand covered his mouth in the next moment.
"Finally caught you, fucker." A gruff voice called out, filled with elation.
A sharp pain thundered into his ribs, producing a crisp cracking sound as his rib shattered upon impact. The cry he tried to let out was prevented by the large hand, but the sudden pain and shock caused a huge dump of adrenaline to circulate through his body.
With no time to think, his body went into self preservation mode. He bit down upon the hand covering his mouth, using all of his force—eliciting a groan of pain from one of his attackers.
"He’s fucking biting me!"
It wasn’t the same voice.
"Hurry up and cast the sound dampening spell," the other ordered hurriedly.
Shit! I can’t let them complete it.
Despite being in agony from his broken rib, Michael struggled with all of his might—his crimson mana rushing within his meridians wildly. Since he couldn’t open his mouth to mutter any incantations, he would have to make do with chore magic.
With a snap of his fingers, Michael ingited a flame upon his palm and ruthlessly grabbed the arm around his neck.
A muffled scream shot out from the assailants mouth as the low-tier chore magic burned his arm. The scent of scorched hairs and flesh entered Michael’s nose—but he was able to free himself in the chaos.
He surged towards the door, intending on forcing it open. However, when he twisted the doorknob, he realized that it was locked from the outside.
But there was no time to think—no time to even process what had happened. With his senses on high alert, he felt a rush of wind enter his ears, forcing him to duck with lightning-like reflexes.
A dull thud echoed within the small room, flesh hitting a wooden door. The accompanying curse was indicative of what transpired—an errant fist missing its target and striking the door with force.
Michael turned, his eyes only now able to make out the figures in the room. There were three teens, but he only recognized two. Troy, his brother Randolph and an unfamiliar boy clutching his arm in pain with a fierce expression on his face.
"Randolph! Hurry up and cast the damn spell!" Troy bellowed in anger.
The curly-haired Randolph jumped in fright, hastily trying to chant his incantations.
But Michael was faster.
Michael shouted, flourishing his left wrist in an arc. Sparks of electricity shot out from the mana circle that formed almost instantaneously above his palm—lighting up the dim room.
A long whip made of electricity appeared in Michael’s hand, stunning those present. Not wasting any time, he launched a strike towards Randolph at the far end of the room, intending to disrupt him before he could cast the sound dampening spell.
However, the pain from his shattered ribs reduced both the power and speed that he was able to swing the whip—yet Michael pushed through the pain, his desperation overcoming any discomfort.
If he didn’t stop the teen from casting the spell, he might not even make it out of this ambush alive. As long as he made enough noise—people would be alerted to the spot on the second floor.
The whip surged forward, its target Randolph who now wore a fearful expression. The source of thɪs content is N0v3l.Fiɾe.net
However, Troy who was closest to him intercepted it—grabbing the whip made of lightning. His body stiffened and sparks surged throughout his body, but it only seemed to make him more angry.
Due to his interference, Randolph was able to finally activate his incantation. An orange mana circle appeared above his palm, followed by a dome of wind that spread out—much like Magnus’s spell he’d seen not even twenty minutes earlier.
However, the control and range of the spell were subpar—at least in comparison.